


Laughing All The Way

by creepy_crawly



Category: EXO (Band), K-pop
Genre: Laughter During Sex, M/M, Post-Break Up, Puns & Word Play, Sappy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-25
Updated: 2018-12-25
Packaged: 2019-09-26 21:30:48
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,851
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17149418
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/creepy_crawly/pseuds/creepy_crawly
Summary: The mark of a healthy relationship is the laughter. That's true, whether you're together every day, or sneaking away for three days out of a year.Or Junmyeon, Yifan, Christmas Carols, and bad puns.





	Laughing All The Way

**Author's Note:**

> Alternate titles include, "I'll Jingle Your Bells," "Make the Yuletide Gay AF," and "*incoherent seasonal-scented cackling*." Just so you know what you're in for.

“I’ll make  _ your _ Yuletide gay,” Yifan purrs into Junmyeon’s ear, the low rumble of his voice drowning out the Christmas carols piping from the television. His perpetually-cold fingertips trace a shivery line down Junmyeon’s sternum, towards the vee of his hips, towards where their legs are tangled together beneath the heavy weight of blankets.

Junmyeon just snorts and slaps at Yifan’s arm where it curls over his body, leaning a little into the other man’s bulk. “You,” he mutters, “are a menace. Also, fuck, your fingers are cold.”

He can’t see Yifan’s grin, sharkish and wild, but he can feel it against the back of his neck. He can sure as hell hear it, too, when Yifan murmurs, “you could help me warm them up.” He strokes the crease where Junmyeon’s thigh meets his hip, and something so simple shouldn’t send shocks down his spine, but…

Junmyeon rides the tremble, hooks his calf a little tighter against Yifan’s, pushes himself a little closer in their little blanket nest. “Why do I even let you in my bed,” he asks the open air, snaking a hand out of the warmth to weave his fingers together with Yifan’s, left exposed from how he’s got an arm under the pillows they are sharing. 

(It’s ridiculous, how large Yifan feels when they are close like this. How every inch of him seems at once too big and just perfectly sized. How he covers Junmyeon so easily with his own body, hides him from the world,  _ becomes _ the world, even though his focus is on such a narrow thing as Junmyeon himself.)

Yifan squeezes his hand, turning a little on the mattress so he’s not just curled against Junmyeon but curled over him, just a bit. Not enough to crush him, but enough that Junmyeon’s certainly feeling a hint of his weight, the way he likes it. “Hmm. Might have something to do with my massive--”

“Yeah, your ego is impressive,” Junmyeon agrees, not bothering to pretend like he’s not melting and going loose beneath the warm weight of Yifan blanketing him. He twists, though, turns until he’s facing Yifan--though he keeps hold of the other man’s long fingers until the realities of biology and joints force him to let go. 

Yifan grins at him, readjusting the messy tangle of their legs so that he’s got one long limb entirely hooked over the arc of Junmyeon’s hips. He uses that for leverage to pull them even closer to one another, until they are breathing the same humid air and Junmyeon has to crane his neck to see his face, more due to the extreme angle than any difference in height. 

Winking, Yifan says, “harsh. I’d say my ego is totally reasonably sized. Unlike my--”

Junmyeon silences him with one of the pillows they’d discarded earlier, clumsily smacking him in the face with it. “Men. Ace,” he repeats, though the laughter in his voice undoes all the hard work of making his face stern. 

It doesn’t really matter in the long run, though, because seconds later, Yifan is kissing that sternness away. His lips are soft and warm, his mouth gentle and achingly familiar and strange all at once. Junmyeon can’t help but close his eyes and fall into that abyss, because even when Yifan was always there, it wasn’t enough, and now, all they have are stolen moments, none of them long enough, all of them scattered throughout the wide waste of empty years.

But Yifan still kisses like Yifan, still hovers long fingers over the curve of Junmyeon’s chin, the wide blush of his cheek, still brushes them gently through his hair, still lets his nails scratch soothingly at his scalp as his hand comes to rest at the base of Junmyeon’s skull, cradling his head in one large palm. The slow, unsteady movement of his other hand, petting down his back in soft sweeps from his shoulder to his hip, to slide back and palm his ass, to guide his leg between Yifan’s own--that’s familiar, too, for all that it wakes little firebursts of sensation through Junmyeon’s skin.

Then again, after the weekend they’ve had, there’s no reason for any contact between the two of them to be anything but familiar. They’ve spent most of the year communicating mostly in snarky snapchats and threats--promises?--of what they’ll do when they see one another again, with the occasional furtive phone call to break up the monotony. 

There’s so much that pictures and phone calls just don’t get across, though, like how stupidly, deliciously, overwhelmingly  _ full _ Junmyeon feels when he’s sinking down on Yifan’s cock, or the high-pitched, hiccuping whimper Yifan doesn’t seem to realise he makes every time Junmyeon comes to rest balls-deep in his ass. Nothing can replace the stiff-slick feel of Yifan’s sweaty hair under Junmyeon’s hands, or the sticky drag of want-hot skin on skin. The smell of each other rising from sex-warmed skin, the way the air grows close and dark with the smell of sex and sweat and their colognes…

He may have been craving Yifan in person more than he realised, actually.

With a low groan, Junmyeon presses up into Yifan’s warm weight, kissing him hungrily, letting himself take everything he’s spent most of the last year not just wanting but  _ wanting _ . He can  _ feel _ the moment Yifan gives up on taking this slow, or being careful, or anything stupid like that; his hips arc and twist and then he is covering Junmyeon entirely, a living cage of flesh and bone. He kisses him back with a sudden desperation that might be more flattering if Junmyeon himself weren’t melting under the onslaught, just as desperate.

Junmyeon’s hands course up and around Yifan, pulling him tight, close. He may only have this through the end of the day, but he will have this. 

Yifan’s hands are hot as they move up Junmyeon’s body, coming to cradle his face between those huge, warm palms, even as his back curves and curls so that he is straddling Junmyeon’s hips, but not crushing him. 

Junmyeon can feel Yifan’s knees against his ribs, warm and solid, much like Yifan himself, trapping him still against the mattress. He smiles against Yifan’s lips, and tilts his face up, lets Yifan tilt it up even further, until the weight of Yifan’s body over his is the only thing holding him still, down, tethered to this earth.

“Feel so good,” Yifan mumbles, breaking the kiss just long enough to gasp for air. One hand releases Junmyeon’s face, tickling down his throat to his chest, where it comes to a rest as his other hand teases through his hair. 

In return, Junmyeon nips at his bottom lip, one hand coming up to curve around the hand still cupping his face. His fingers barely come to the middle knuckles on Yifan’s hands, and he has a moment to feel incredibly, impossibly tiny before Yifan’s long fingertips tease across and around the shell of Junmyeon’s ear, and his mind just  _ liquidates _ .

Yifan laughs, just a little, and tickles Junmyeon gently. It’s a simple, warm play of sensation, a tease across his nipples, and then  _ he pinches _ .

Junmyeon jolts and swears. He rips away from the kiss, even as Yifan laughs, shaking his whole body. “ _ Such _ an ass,” he groans.

Laughing even harder, Yifan snags one of Junmyeon’s hands--headed for revenge, if he’s honest--and guides it to his own ass. “Yeah, it is.” He winks. “Thanks for noticing.”

He can’t help it; Junmyeon starts laughing, too. He slaps the other man’s ass, cackling wildly. “Yeah, it is?” he echoes. “Oh my god! You are the actual worst.”

Yifan grins down at him. “And yet, for some reason, you’re here in this bed with me.”

“Wouldn’t have it any other way,” Junmyeon says, suddenly serious despite his wide, bright smile. He presses up, catches Yifan’s mouth in a slow, warm kiss. His eyes fall shut as he lets himself relish the feel of the man he loves treating him like something wonderful and precious.

Yifan, as ever he used to, gives just as good as he gets. Time seems to melt in Junmyeon’s grasp, seconds flowing into minutes flowing into long, aching moments that become flashes of sensation. Junmyeon is arching up into Yifan’s weight, and then suddenly he is pressed beneath it, anchored by the other man’s hands. They are kissing; Yifan’s lips are a hot, damp trail down the side of Junmyeon’s neck. Yifan’s hands are in his hair; Junmyeon is holding onto Yifan for dear life; Junmyeon has Yifan’s ass in both hands.

It’s as the kissing starts to slow, to become a steadier rhythm of lips to lips, a reminder of presence and love more than anything more desperate, that Junmyeon starts to drum his fingers. Well, maybe  _ drum _ isn’t the right word. More...tap. Semi-rhythmically. It’s something he does, sometimes, when his mind is distracted but his body is still keyed up. 

He doesn’t really think anything of it--doesn’t even  _ notice  _ it, if he’s honest--until Yifan suddenly pauses, then breaks their kiss. Supporting himself on his elbows, hovering mere inches above Junmyeon’s face, Yifan slants an eyebrow. 

“Are you playing  _ Jingle Bells _ ?” he asks, a laugh in his voice. “On my  _ ass _ ?”

Junmyeon allows himself a moment to think, to recognise the pattern his fingers have fallen into, and then he has to bite back a laugh of his own. “Yes?” he asks. Then, more firmly, “yes. Yes, it is.”

There’s a moment, a thick, syrupy second that hangs between them, where the only sound is the carol now playing on the long-forgotten television. Yifan stares at Junmyeon. Junmyeon stares back.

And then Yifan is collapsing in laughter, only narrowly avoiding crushing Junmyeon beneath him. Junmyeon follows him down into hysterics not long after, his guilty hands rising to cover his laughter. They lay like that, tangled and shaking,for a good while. Every time one of them begins to calm, the other snorts out a laugh, and the cycle takes off again. 

Eventually, though, they do manage to laugh themselves out, though Junmyeon’s abs are aching by the time he’s wheezing out a sigh.

Beside him, Yifan makes a questioning noise.

Junmyeon rolls his head to the side, looking at him. Reaching down, he weaves his fingers with Yifan’s. He takes in the bright-eyed, red-cheeked face beside his own for a long, long second. “I’m really glad you’re here,” he says finally, voice low. 

Yifan’s eyes soften, and then he raises their entwined hands, twisting so that Junmyeon’s is facing him. “Nowhere else I’d rather be, Jun,” he murmurs, and then presses a kiss to the back of Junmyeon’s hand. “Nowhere else I’d rather be.” He pauses, letting the moment of soft sincerity stretch between them, the honey-sweet strand going further and further until it breaks, and he glances away. He bites his lip, then adds, "and no one else I'd let jingle my bells."

He makes the most  _amazing_ squawk when Junmyeon mashes the pillow into his cackling face.

 

**Author's Note:**

> I'm so not even sorry about the ending, and I'm less sorry than you'd appreciate about the lack of actual sex. Though that may get its own puntastic follow up fic. We'll see.


End file.
